


I'll Be Your Journal

by BreakTheDawn



Series: A Song of Storm and Ice [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bi-Curiosity, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Friendship, Gen, Hawaiian Hunk (Voltron), Hispanic Lance (Voltron), Hunk & Lance (Voltron) Friendship, Hunk (Voltron) is so Pure, Hunk (Voltron)-centric, Other, POV Hunk (Voltron), Platonic Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-10-13 20:14:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10521030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BreakTheDawn/pseuds/BreakTheDawn
Summary: “Lance,” Hunk had pleaded.“I can’t believe you just did that to me,” Lance covered his face as his breaths started to become heavy and uneven.Looking back, Hunk doesn’t know how he knew, but he did. He knew at that point that if he didn’t fix that. Didn’t fix Lance. Then he would lose him. Hunk could not let that happen....Or, that one time that Hunk crossed the line.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Well damn if this didn't just take me forever to get out lol! Can I just say how much I enjoyed writing this lol?  
> I try my hand at a fair origin story for our favorite Yellow Paladin, and focus on the dynamic that is Hunk and Lance just why it's so special.
> 
> Fair warning, Hunk has much more access to the self-deprecating side of Lance, so expect some insecure and dark Lance thoughts here. Also, look at the tags. The bisexuality is not explicit, just very heavily implied. If one has a problem with that for some unknown reason, then you may want to skip this one.

Ok.

 

To be clear.

 

Tsuyoshi Garrett does  _ not  _ enter the Garrison by choice.

 

But that doesn't mean he would have preferred to stay home.

 

He'd always been bigger than most of his peers, ever since he was a little boy. And in small towns where everyone knew anyone and any big (no pun intended) differences stood out, well.

 

Kids are mean. 

 

On top of being the fat kid in class at his home town, Tsuyoshi had also had the unfortunate luck of being the nerd on top of that. 

 

Being from the small surf town of Paia, located on the isle of Maui, Tsuyoshi was an anomaly to the children in the small school he went to. In a town mainly concerned with preserving tradition and a sense of community, a small fat kid that didn't want to talk to his classmates and only wanted to build things as opposed to surf was just weird. And they all liked to make sure that he knew it.

 

Tsuyoshi supposes that his obsession with mechanics and engineering started with his father. In fact, a lot of things started and ended with his father, but that's a story for another time.

 

For right now, all that matters is that his dad was an investigator for the Five-0, and tended to bring his work home with him, when he came home. (Ok, maybe  _ some  _ of the story is for now.)

 

Tsuyoshi’s dad's job was to take things apart and to find evidence or something from them, and the little boy had never felt as intrigued by anything as he was by watching his father in their workshop. Except for maybe cooking with his mom.

 

(And if being in that workshop with his dad was the only time that Tsuyoshi actually got more than a simple acknowledgement out of the stoic man, then...No. Now isn't the time.) 

 

Point. His dad was a cool guy who took things apart and figured out how they worked before putting them back together again, and could build pretty much anything. He wanted to be like his dad. 

 

And so he focused his mind on learning as much as he could, so that he could one day be like his father. Tsuyoshi never talked to his classmates, preferring only to study and learn how things worked, because his mom had always said that his dad was very smart. So to be like his dad, Tsuyoshi had to be very smart. 

 

He did well in class, everything came easy, and so the teachers started giving him more advanced material and pointing him out as a prodigy. Word spread around town fast. His dad let him sit in the workshop more and actually told Tsuyoshi about his day sometimes, though he only cared to hear about what new thing his son had learned.

 

The kids got meaner though. Tsuyoshi was better than them, and it made them angry. Only he didn't feel like he was better than them. He didn't quite understand why they disliked him for wanting be like his dad, but he knew that it hurt his feelings. Tsuyoshi spent a lot of nights crying when he was young. 

 

His mother tried to help, but there wasn't much that she could do. The adults didn't like him very much either, they thought that he was being mean to their children, but it was the other way around. It got pretty bad, but then his mother pulled him aside one night, handing him a half-filled leather-bound book with old pages.

 

“This is my old journal, Tsuyoshi,” she'd stated softly, brushing his tears away from his cheeks. “Write down how you feel, sweetheart. I know it can feel like a lot, but we'll go through it together.”

 

“What do you mean?” He'd asked shakily.

 

“You'll write down what happens to you, the good and the bad, and how it makes you feel.” She'd explained with a smile on her face, “And then we'll read it together, and we'll go into detail why the things may have happened to you, why it's ok for you to feel how you feel about them, and then what we can do to help you not feel that way if you feel bad. You like to learn, Tsuyoshi. This will be us learning about yourself.”

 

Tsuyoshi had thought on it, managed a small smile. “Ok.”

 

And so he'd written in his mom’s old journal, and learned about both himself and her in the process. Things didn't exactly get better, but they didn't hurt as much anymore.

 

And the his dad had gotten shot.

 

It wasn't serious. The bullet went through and through on his left arm, but an eleven-year-old Tsuyoshi was upset. So very upset. Because wasn't his dad's job to take things apart? Learn how they work? Build things up again? His dad was supposed to he a fixer. He wasn't supposed to get shot.

 

Tsuyoshi didn't want to be just like his father anymore.

 

And looking back, he was probably a coward for that, but not everyone is meant to be brave or courageous. Some people have to be there to make sure others take fear seriously. They have the feeling for a reason. He's never seen a problem with deferring to it sometimes.

 

His father was not amused, and ended up being added to the journal for much different reasons than before. (No time for that now.)

 

Anyways. 

 

He kept doing his best to learn in school, because he really did grow to love taking things apart and putting them back together, but since he wasn't going to try and be just like his father anymore, he could get a little more creative. Just like he did with his mom while cooking.

 

And so he continued to be the nerdy fat kid. Only he became the nerdy fat kid that always put together weird little trinkets that didn't quite work like he wanted them to. He continued to write in his journal and read it with his mother. He continued to write about his father, who didn't talk to him so much anymore. And everything was ok. At least a little bit.

 

And then his father read his journal.

 

It wasn't like it was a secret or anything. His mother read their shared journal all the time, Tsuyoshi would have let any who asked read it really. It was supposed to be helpful, it wasn't a bad thing, so why hide it. 

 

His father didn't react to it right away, but Tsuyoshi noticed a change. His dad still didn't talk to him very much, but had started to watch him closely. Tsuyoshi could never figure out why exactly, but he knew it made him uncomfortable, like something was coming and he didn't know what. He wrote about that too.

 

When he was fourteen, he heard his mother and his father arguing.

 

“I don’t want him going that far!” his mother had insisted. Tsuyoshi wasn’t sure just what they were talking about. It was late, he wasn’t really supposed to be up.

 

“Staying here is not good for him!” his father had snapped back, “he’s too soft! And he isn’t working towards his full potential.”

 

“There’s nothing wrong with him being honest with his emotions!”

 

“There is so when the world around him will mistreat him for it!” his dad had screamed, more emotion in his voice than Tsuyoshi had ever heard before in his life. There was pause. A tense silence, and then his father’s voice had went on, “I haven’t been around enough. I let you make him this way.”

 

“He is your  _ son _ !” his mom said angrily, “do not talk about him in that way!”

 

“He is too dependent,” his father had insisted harshly, “he can’t go a day without huddling under you at least once. That is not normal for boys his age.”

 

“I cherish his heart and his feelings,” his mother had retorted, “I think it’s sweet.”

 

“Sweet doesn’t make it in the world,” his father had responded, as if it were the most simple fact. “Not without some form of protection.”

 

“We are supposed to be that protection!”

 

“And we won’t be around to do it forever!” his father stated. Tsuyoshi’s eyes had widened. He didn’t want his parents to ever leave him, but his dad had made it sound like they would have to eventually. He’d known logically that he would outlive them, was expected to outlive them even, but hearing it spoken aloud shook him.

 

His mother didn’t respond. So his father kept going.

 

“He can protect himself,” the man had stated, “he can do it with his mind.”

 

There was a heavy sigh from his mom. But she still didn’t say anything.

 

“His mind is spectacular,” his father had said, a fondness in his voice that almost brought tears to Tsuyoshi’s eyes. “If he trains it, keeps up with it, he will become valuable. To so many. People won’t dare to hurt him. Others will protect him. But he can’t foster his intellect the way he needs to here.”   
  


Another tense silence.

 

“Fine,” her voice was shaky, “do it then.”

 

‘It’ had amounted to having Tsuyoshi take the aptitude exam for the Garrison. It also amounted to his dad being harsher with him than ever before. Tsuyoshi was growing, and in the midst of it all, he finally found himself growing a certain level of resentment for his father. Especially when the man pulled him aside one night and shoved the journal at him.

 

“This is weakness,” the man had said cruelly, “but I’ll allow you keep at it, because you aren’t strong enough to be on your own yet.”

 

And so that’s how a fifteen year old Tsuyoshi Garrett ended up begrudgingly entering a room with one Lance McClain. 

 

It was...an experience to say the least.

 

The Garrison was new and scary in a way that Tsuyoshi had never anticipated. The kids were different for one, he’d never seen so much variety in personalities and priorities before in his life. He wasn’t sure he liked it. He continued to write in his journal. 

 

His roommate was interesting, Tsuyoshi could admit. A small hispanic boy with enough personality for both of them and then some. They didn’t quite talk very much at the beginning. With them both being on completely different tracks for the Garrison, their classes made it so that the only time Tsuyoshi was guaranteed to see Lance was right at the beginning of the day and late at night. And since his roommate was both not a morning person and an advocate for a full eight hours whenever possible, they didn’t do much interacting at these times.

 

The adjustment wasn’t too hard on Tsuyoshi, surprisingly enough. He learned like he was used to doing. He experimented like he enjoyed doing. Only they were both on a much larger and more enthralling scale. The Garrison was filled with an unbelievable amount of resources, and Tsuyoshi was filled with a desire to experiment with everything. Though the cafeteria food was a major disappointment. He didn’t have friends, but he didn’t need them. No one really made fun of him too much at the Garrison, which was surprising, but welcome. Tsuyoshi was content to be able to write in his journal, and tell his mother all about it during their weekly video calls.’

 

His roommate had a significantly more difficult time though. 

 

Lance McClain was a social creature apparently, and needed to be around people and relate to people to some extent. So the fact that he had no friends really seemed to get to him. Tsuyoshi felt kind of bad every time he heard the boy whimpering for his parents or his older siblings in his sleep, but he didn’t know how to help him.

 

It all changed when he found Lance’s journal one day though.

 

His roommate had left the room in a hurry earlier, late for some simulation or another, and so the little blue notebook was left conspicuously on the floor by his perfectly made bed (which was probably why he was late. Lance had a habitual morning routine that he refused to abstain from even the slightest bit).

 

Lance’s journal was...depressing. To say the very least.

 

Tsuyoshi had been shocked to see just how much his seemingly happy-go-lucky roommate seemed to hate himself. Whereas in his own journal, he attributed his hurt feelings to specific events and made sure write down in detail why he felt that way and why he was justified in feeling said way. Weakness was weakness, and everyone had it. There was no point in getting super upset over it.

 

Lance saw it very differently. Tsuyoshi found himself on the verge of tears as he read his roommates surprisingly pretty scrawl, because Lance somehow always managed to insult himself about something. His roommate was used to being needed, used to being appreciated. He didn’t need to stand out, but he did need for someone to tell him he was doing ok once in awhile. Which was something he was not getting from those at the Garrison. And Lance was somehow convinced that it was his fault.

 

If no one laughed at his jokes, then it was because Lance didn’t try hard enough to make them funny. If a teacher didn’t acknowledge his efforts, then it was because Lance wasn’t pushing himself hard enough. If he didn’t know the answer to a question, then it was because Lance was stupid. If no one seemed to pay attention to his flirting, then it was because Lance was ugly and annoying. 

 

And the worst part was the end of the entries. Entire sections about how Lance was so, so afraid of people realizing just how not-funny, lazy, stupid or ugly he was. To Lance, people saw these facts about him on a surface level, but if he didn’t try hard enough to change their minds, then they would realize just how right they were. Lance’s biggest fear wasn’t about how people saw him, it was that they would find out how he saw himself, and leave him for it.

 

Tsuyoshi was horrified to see himself referred in there as well. Lance didn’t think his roommate liked him, and it seemed to hurt his feelings a lot. 

 

The start of their first meaningful went like this.

 

“You’re not ugly,” Tsuyoshi had insisted, the moment that Lance had walked through the door.

 

His roommate stared at him, expression befuddled.

 

“Er…” Lance had spoken, “what?”

 

“You’re not ugly,” Tsuyoshi had repeated. Because it was important that he reassure his roommate. And while he couldn’t speak much to the other things that Lance had wrote about, having not been around him for those occurrences, he could speak to that.

 

Lance had stared.

 

“I don’t think you’re ugly,” Tsuyoshi raised the little blue book.

 

“ _ ¿Que? _ ” Lance said loudly, “ _ ¡Santo mierda! ¡No puedo creer que hayas leído eso _ !”

 

Tsuyoshi didn’t know what that meant, but he had the distinct feeling that it wasn’t good.

 

“ _ Dude _ !” Lance had cried, “Ever heard of privacy!?”

 

Tsuyoshi had stared, unsure of what the problem was. He was curious about the fact that Lance seemed to have an accent when worked up that he didn’t have on a regular basis. 

 

“Where did you find that?” Lance demanded, crossing the room to swipe it from Tsuyoshi’s hands. 

 

“On the floor,” he’d murmured, still not quite clear on why Lance seemed irritated. Maybe he hadn’t phrased it properly? “You’re handsome,” he said instead.

 

Lance’s face turned bright red at that. “You can’t just  _ say  _ stuff like that!”

 

“Why not?” Tsuyoshi crossed his arms, “I read that you were upset about what people think of your looks.”

 

“ _ ¿¡Seriamente!? _ ”

 

“So I figured I’d tell you that you don’t need to be,” Tsuyoshi explained, “because you’re not ugly. You’re handsome, and I don’t want you to feel upset like that again.”

 

Lance had stopped and stared at him, blue eyes wide and mouth open.

 

“Is that bad?” he’d asked, because he didn’t think it was bad. It was something his mom would do. “That’s the same thing my mom would do,” he said, because he felt Lance needed to know.

 

At that, his roommate’s face softened considerably. 

 

“Your mom huh?” Lance had murmured, “Sounds like a nice lady, in that case.”

 

His expression looked a little less troubled, so Tsuyoshi figured that talking about his mom was the way to go.

 

“Yeah,” he’d said, “she’s the best. Always makes me feel better when I’m down.” 

 

Lance had smiled softly, “will you tell me more about her?” 

 

Tsuyoshi talked a lot about himself that night, but he’d never felt like he’d learned Lance more.

 

“And by the way,” his roommate had said quietly, after they’d finally settled for the night. “You’re not so bad looking yourself, Tsuyoshi.”

 

Tsuyoshi was shocked by two things. One, that Lance remembered his name. No one else seemed to. Two, that Lance would say something like that.

 

“That’s not true,” he’d said simply, “I’m fat.”

 

And fat people weren’t handsome or pretty, according to the kids back home.

 

“Dude,” Lance’s voice had went deadly serious, “have people been bothering you?”

 

“...No?” Tsuyoshi had responded, confused. “They used to tell me that,” he’d explained, “back at home-”

 

“Well they’re lying,” Lance butted in vehemently, “don’t believe them, they don’t know what they’re talking about.”

 

“It’s ok,” Tsuyoshi had insisted, “I don’t need to be handsome.”

 

And really. He didn’t. He was smart, he was nice, he could cook. Tsuyoshi knew he had a lot of things going for him, and he was completely ok with his looks not being one of them.

 

“Dude,” Lance had hopped out of his bunk at that, crossing the space to stare down at Tsuyoshi sternly. “Listen to me very carefully,” he’d ordered.

 

“Uh…” Tsuyoshi murmured, “Ok?”

 

“You’re listening?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Carefully?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“So you’re listening carefully?” Lance had asked.

 

“I am listening,” Tsuyoshi insisted, “ _ carefully _ .”

 

“Good,” Lance had grinned. “Now my friend,”

 

_ Friend _ ?

 

“Believe me when I tell you this,” 

 

“Ok?”

 

“You are a fucking  _ Hunk _ , dude.”

 

Tsuyoshi stared. Lance stared. A second passed. And then they both burst into uncontrollable giggles.

 

“A hunk?” Tsuyoshi had asked incredulously.

 

“A Hunk,” his roommate had insisted, “like, a  _ Smoking Hunk _ .”

 

“A smoking hunk?” Tsuyoshi was laughing so hard that he was finding it hard to breathe.

 

“A  _ Smoking Hot Hunk! _ ” Lance cackled, “like  _ damn, bro _ ! You fine!”

 

And so that was the night that Tsuyoshi became Hunk. The same night he truly met the best friend he could ever ask for. 

 

It’s too bad that they didn’t get around to talking about how it’s not normal to go around reading other people's diaries.

 

…

 

Hunk and Lance had become the best of friends after that.

 

The fact that they were each other’s only friends may have had something to do with it, but they hit it off spectacularly, and his brown-haired roommate was good for Hunk in a way that Tsuyoshi would have never anticipated upon going to the Garrison. 

 

Lance became a regular addition to Hunk’s journal. How could he not? With how much trouble he got them both into, there was almost always a story to tell. But these all had made Hunk feel great, and he found himself not having to justify feeling happy to hang out with his best friend. The happiness in and of itself was justification enough, and Hunk had grown to appreciate the improvement on his own social skills that having someone like Lance around accomplished.

 

Hunk still read Lance’s journal, and he was delighted to realize that his roommate had felt the same appreciation for him. Hunk went along with Lance’s jokes, so Lance couldn’t be comedically incompetent. Hunk recognized just how hard Lance tried (and really, his best friend tried far too hard for far too little in Hunk’s humble opinion), so Lance’s efforts must have been worth something. Hunk never judged Lance for his questions, so they couldn’t have been stupid all the time. And Hunk was a Smoking Hot Hunk who thought that Lance was handsome, so he had to be attractive on some level. 

 

The engineer had still been mildly worried that Lance’s ideas of self-worth were so intensely intertwined with how other people viewed him. Especially Hunk, because Lance cared about Hunk, which meant that his opinion of his friend weighed heavily on his friend’s self-esteem. 

 

Looking back on it now, Hunk realizes why the fallout happened the way that it did. Lance had this awful habit of giving people the power to destroy over pretty much anything. And he was careless. Lance had always valued his privacy. He shared so much of himself with others in hopes of being viewed positively, so the things he kept to himself (or wanted to keep to himself), he really wanted kept to himself. 

 

So when Hunk had casually stated, “Well Lance might like guys too,” in the middle of a conversation in the commons one night, it’s no wonder that he’d almost lost his best friend over it.

 

They had been talking to two girls from Hunk’s engineering course. It was a year into their time at the Garrison, so they were both sixteen, right in the middle of their teenage hormone surges and just entering the stage of true self-discovery really. 

 

Lauren and Shira were two nice girls that Hunk worked with on group assignments, and he’d introduced Lance to them in hopes of helping his roommate make more friends. For some reason, Lance bringing out Hunk’s joking and fun-loving side had landed the bigger boy quite a few friends over time, but the hispanic boy had been significantly less lucky. 

 

It was just the four of them in the commons that night, and the two girls were some of the nicest people that Hunk had met. So there was really worry of judgment, or things getting passed around, because no one present was like that. At least, not on purpose.

 

His unfortunate comment had come after Lauren had poked at Shira’s cheek in a move that felt way too intimate for just friends. (And coming from Hunk, who’d spent the majority of his down time with Lance draped over him in some way, that was noteworthy.) 

 

“Are you guys  _ dating _ ?” Lance asked, eyes wide. It was pure curiosity, Hunk could tell. But Lauren didn’t see it that way.

 

“So what if we are?” she’d snapped, because somehow Hunk’s roommate tended to rub people the wrong way. It was probably because of his reputation as a joke and a failed womanizer. “You have something to say?”

 

It was very hostile, and Hunk could tell that Lance was stressed by her angry response.

 

“N-no,” his friend muttered, “of course not! I was just asking.”

 

“Or maybe you’re just a pervert?” Lauren accused.

 

“Lauren,” Shira had noticed what Hunk had noticed, which was Lance’s eyes welling up as he stammered and tried to find a response. Back then he’d frowned, still unfamiliar with a lot of things that came with having friends. Hunk could feel then what he now knows was a fierce protective rage, but since he didn’t know how to channel it properly, he tried to defuse the situation the only way he knew how.

 

“Well Lance might like guys too.” 

 

Because Lauren wouldn’t be saying those things to Lance if she knew that he was probably only asking because he hadn’t experienced anyone else in a similar situation with their orientation. Hunk knew because he read it Lance’s journal. The boy felt a bit awkward and upset over the occasional thoughts he had for the other guys in the locker rooms, especially considering the fact that he didn’t know anyone else who could relate. (And as a side note, Hunk had finally grown to accept the fact that his looks were also something he had going for him. Because Lance  _ genuinely  _ thought he was a Smoking Hot Hunk. He’d thought that he always accepted his weight before reading that, but he was wrong. He’ll have to thank Lance for that someday.)

 

Hunk had only been trying to help.

 

But Lance’s face had paled considerably, and his head snapped to stare at Hunk. The bigger boy had immediately known that something went wrong, because Lance looked positively  _ horrified _ . 

 

“Really?” Lauren’s anger had faded a bit as she regarded Lance, “is that true?”

 

“I,” Lance had squeaked. If he wasn’t going to cry before, then he was definitely going to cry then. “I mean…”

 

“Hunk!” Shira had hissed in disapproval. But of what. Hunk didn’t know what went wrong.

 

“I just,” his best friend’s voice had wobbled dangerously.

 

“Hey it’s ok,” Lauren had said, “if it’s true. Just own it.”

 

“Lance?” Hunk had asked, because his friend was so clearly distressed over something. And he was beginning to think that it was his fault.

 

“I…” Lance repeated, face red and eyes wet. And Hunk had just about been ready to glomp his friend and demand an answer as to what was wrong, but then Lance let out an embarrassed whine.

 

“¡ _ Mierda _ !”

 

And then his friend was up and charging down the halls.

 

There was a moment of silence. Hunk was horrified. He still didn’t know why it ended up so bad. But he was even more assured that it was his fault when Shira glared at him.

 

“Why would you say that?” she’d demanded.

 

“I…” Hunk said anxiously, “I was just trying to help…”

 

“Outing someone is not helping, Hunk,” she’d said patiently, “that’s not something you just  _ tell  _ people. He probably didn’t want anyone to know.”

 

“Oh…” Hunk murmured, “...shit.”

 

He’d been nervous when he approached their dorm room that night, but determined. Because Hunk had made his best friend cry. And that was just unacceptable, he still didn’t fully get it, but he would talk to Lance and find out.

 

“I can’t believe you,” Lance had hissed, the moment Hunk had shut the door behind him.

 

“Lance,” he said softly, “I-”

 

“How did you even know that!?” Lance demanded, face twisted in anger. It was scary.

 

“It was in your journal,” Hunk answered quickly. He didn’t know how to deal with this. Lance had never gotten angry before. 

 

“ _ What _ !?” Lance shouted, “are you kidding me!?”

 

“W-what?” Hunk said, voice small. “You leave it out all the time, so…”

 

“ _ Dios _ ,” Lance murmured, before his voice rose again. “Hunk!” he said firmly, “you  _ cannot  _ just read my journal like that! What the hell!?”

 

“I,” the bigger boy had taken a step back, because his friend’s anger was making him very uncomfortable. “I don’t understand.”

 

“What do you mean!?” Lance followed him, arms waving wildly. “You  _ don’t understand!? _ What’s there to not understand! That shit is supposed to be private!”

 

“M-mine isn’t!” Hunk had rushed to explain, “my mom and I used to read it together! Half of it are her entries! I thought journal’s are supposed to help you and other people learn more about your feelings!”

 

It certainly helped him learn more about Lance. That was a good thing, right?

 

“Well just because you’re ok with everyone knowing your most personal thoughts,” Lance had snapped, “doesn’t mean that everyone else in the world is! And to just say it aloud like that without talking to me beforehand!?”

 

Hunk whined. “She was upsetting you!” he insisted, “I thought it would make it better!”

 

“I don’t want people knowing that!” Lance shrieks.

 

“But why not?” Hunk had asked quietly, “it’s not like it’s bad or something?”

 

“Not everyone thinks like that Hunk!” Lance said desperately, tears running down his cheeks. Hunk’s chest had hurt just looking at his friend. “What if they tell people!?”

 

“I don’t think they will,” he had tried to assure.

 

“Well I don’t know that,” the hispanic boy had said harshly, “and now I have to sit here and worry about whether everyone is going to know about me come tomorrow, because  _ you, _ ” he pointed at Hunk, “decided to put my business out like it was the most simple thing!”

 

“Lance,” Hunk had pleaded.

 

“I can’t believe you just did that to me,” Lance covered his face as his breaths started to become heavy and uneven. 

 

Looking back, Hunk doesn’t know how he knew, but he did. He knew at that point that if he didn’t fix that. Didn’t fix Lance. Then he would lose him. Hunk could not let that happen.

 

He needed this person in his life.

 

“I’m sorry,” Hunk had whispered, closing the space between them and wrapping Lance in the hug to end all hugs. “I’m so sorry, Lance.”

 

“You can’t just do that me Hunk,” Lance whimpered into Hunk’s chest, feeling small and shaky in the bigger boy’s arms. “I have to be able to trust you.”

 

“I’m so, so sorry,” Hunk insisted. “I,” he gulped, “You’re my first friend, Lance. I don’t always know what to do. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or upset. Please don’t cry.”

 

Hunk himself had started to cry though. He couldn’t lose Lance. He couldn’t.

 

“Please,” he’d said, “please tell me how I can make this better.”

 

“You really don’t know?” Lance’s voice was still shaky. It had hurt to hear. 

 

“I don’t” Hunk promised, “but I want to know. I want to know how to be a better friend. Please don’t stop being friends with me.”

 

There was a pause. Lance sniffled. Hunk sniffled.

 

“Why did you think it was ok to just read my journal again?” Lance asked.

 

“Everyone that mattered read mine,” Hunk responded, “I...I didn’t realize it’s normally a thing that isn’t shared.”

 

“...You didn’t say that aloud to make fun of me?”

 

“What!?” Hunk gasped, pulling back to look at his friend’s face. Lance’s face was angled down, but Hunk could see him gnawing on his lower lip. “Lance,” he whispered, “no. God no. I wasn’t trying to make fun of you.”

 

“So it doesn't bother you?” Lance had asked softly.

 

It wasn’t until that moment that the full weight of his misstep had truly hit Hunk. This was what his friend had been truly worried about. 

 

Hunk could  _ not  _ have that.  _ Nope _ .

 

“Come on,” he said, pulling Lance over to his bunk and the small desk next to it. His journal was sitting there, in total plain sight. Anyone could pick it up and read it, but Lace wouldn’t, because he respected Hunk’s privacy.

 

“You didn’t answer me,” Lance murmured anxiously, but stopped short when Hunk pointed to the book on the desk. “Hunk?” he’d asked.

 

“Everyone who matters had read it,” Hunk had said firmly, “which means that now you should, too.”

 

Lance stared up at him, blue eyes wide and wet, “Hunk?”

 

“You’re my very first friend,” Hunk had said quietly, “I don’t want to lose you.”

 

Lance had looked up between Hunk and the journal for a few moments, before sighing. 

 

“We’ll have to talk about boundaries,” he murmured, “but ok.”

 

Lance picked up the journal. And broke his own eight hour rule that night.

  
  
  


Fast forward two years. 

 

“Lance,” Hunk knocks sharply on the blue paladin’s door, heart beating anxiously. Oh no.  _ Oh nonononono. _

 

There door slides open, revealing his friend, decked out in full face mask and loungewear.

 

“Hunk?” Lance’s eyes are concerned, as is his voice.

 

“ _ Lance _ ,” Hunk cries, latching onto the smaller man.

 

“What’s wrong?” the blue paladin asks softly, immediately hugging back, rubbing Hunk’s back softly.

 

“It’s not here!” he can’t believe it’s not here. Realistically speaking, there’s no reason to think that he would have brought it along, but Hunk hadn’t realized until just a few moments ago.

 

“What’s not here?” Lance asks patiently, moving backwards with Hunk in tow until his door can slide closed. 

 

“M-my  _ journal _ !” Hunk’s voice cracks as he dissolves into sobs. It had been a crazy time, this Voltron thing. The yellow paladin had literally not had the time or wherewithal to think about the book. But then they’d done a great thing today. They had saved an entire planet, and Hunk had made his first alien friend in Shay, and his first thought had been to go and write in his journal while his good feelings were still fresh in his head. But it wasn’t there.

 

Of course it wasn’t there.

 

It’s probably still back on his desk at the Garrison. No, they’re probably so expelled right now. And they have no idea what the Garrison has told their families, so there’s a chance that no one preserved they belongings. They’ve probably thrown it away.

 

Hunk’s sobs grow, shoulders shaking with the intensity.

 

“Shh,” Lance soothes, voice soft. “It’s ok, Hunk.”

 

“It’s not!” Hunk shakes his head, “It’s  _ not _ !”

 

“It is,” Lance says determinedly, “I’m sure we can find an alien diary around here somewhere.”

 

“But it’s not the same Lance!” Hunk whines, “it wouldn’t have the memories, or the value! I can’t have an emotional attachment to an alien notepad!”

 

Lance hums for a moment, before his arms tighten around Hunk.

 

“You can use me then,” the blue paladin states simply.

 

Hunk’s attention is grabbed.

 

“What do you mean?” he snuffles pitifully.

 

“I have the memories,” Lance states, “and the values. At least I remember the most important ones, from you and your mom.”

 

Hunk’s eyes widen. That’s right. Lance is one of three people who have read Hunk’s entire journal. And he’s here with Hunk now.

 

“But how?” Hunk has to know.

 

“You used to write about things that happened to you, how they made you feel, and why you were justified in feeling that way,” Lance states, because he knows.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Well then you can tell me about the things that happen to you,” Lance pulls back to smile wide at Hunk, even though it cracks his mask. “And how they make you feel, and we’ll talk about why you’re justified in feeling that way. 

 

Hunk stares.

 

“Lance…” he feels even more tears coming on. His best friend is so,  _ so  _ special.

 

“I’ll be your journal,” Lance smiles proudly, as if he takes such joy in just the idea. And Hunk knows he does, because his best friend is just that type of guy. 

 

“Well,” Hunk says quietly, “Today I got to go to a living rock planet…”

 

Lance smiles delightedly, and breaks his own eight hour rule that night. Again. For Hunk.

 

Tsuyoshi The Smoking Hot Hunk Garrett thinks he’s never been so grateful to have someone in his life before.

**Author's Note:**

> Naturally, this takes place before "So Here's What You're Not Going To Do"
> 
> This seems like a good time to explain my views on ships. I don't actually ship Hance, but it doesn't bother either. I actually headcanon Lance as bisexual but very insecure about it for many, many reasons that I will explore in "A Song of Storm and Ice", but you get a hint of them here. Hunk and Lance's relationship is completely platonic in this verse, they are very close, and openly need each other to function at their best, but they don't feel for each other that way. 
> 
> I hope that I did justice to Hunk's character with his backstory and the whole situation here. I took the idea that he just casually reads Pidge's diary in canon and his generally loose ideas of privacy and take it to what I feel like is a realistic issue that can come up with someone like Lance. I hope I did well enough in portraying that Hunk did not mean to upset Lance here, he just really thought it was going to be OK. I headcanon them as each other's first real friend too, so that came into play here lol.
> 
> Anyway, this is the Hunk scenario some people have asked for. I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> This is just a oneshot by the way lol. I felt Hunk deserved his own story and focus.


End file.
